


Darkroom

by flowersforgraves



Series: hc_bingo round 8 [8]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-25 23:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13223361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: In which T'Pol needs some assistance.prompt: telepathic trauma





	Darkroom

T’Pol is lying cold and still on the exam table. 

Phlox leans over her, checking her pulse and brain waves. There’s really nothing else to be done for her, except to be there for her when she wakes up. Trip is pacing back and forth, tapping his fingers on the desk as he walks past. 

“Doc?” he asks.

“No, Mr. Tucker,” Phlox says, with just a hint of impatience, “there’s no change in her condition.”

“Just like the last three times you asked,” Archer notes. 

Trip turns angrily on his heel. “Don’t laugh, Jon! She could be _dying_ there.”

“She’s not,” Phlox tells him, sighing. “She’s perfectly healthy physically, as far as I can tell. It’s just whatever happened to her at that first contact meeting with the telepaths that is affecting her.”

“And there’s no way to know what happened?” Trip asks, sounding desperate. 

“No,” Archer says, as he’s said several times already. “She insisted on doing it all telepathically. She said it would be easier that way.”

“Easier to go wrong,” Trip mutters. “I wish --” He cuts himself off. “Doesn’t matter. Are you sure there’s nothing to do?” he asks again.

“Absolutely. Now, please leave my sickbay,” Phlox says with a perfunctory flick of his wrist. “Your being here isn’t going to do anything except disturb my animals.”

Archer grabs his friend’s arm. “Come on, Trip. Back to engineering you go.”

As soon as the door swishes closed behind them, there’s a piercing scream from the sickbay. Trip spins around, Archer slams his palm against the door to open it, and they burst back into the room they had just vacated.

T’Pol is standing, eyes wild, wielding a large tray as a shield. “Don’t come near me,” she snarls, as Trip reaches out for her.

“T’Pol,” he says, “it’s me. What happened?”

Phlox puts his hand on Trip’s arm. “Mr. Tucker, I don’t think that’s wise.”

“What d’you mean? She’s hurting! She needs help!” Trip pulls away from the doctor. “T’Pol! Answer me!”

“Stay. Back.” She puts the exam table between her and the three men. “They -- they did something to me,” she says, voice shaking. “I don’t know what it was but it hurts and I don’t want it to happen to you, too.”

Archer takes a step forward, slowly raising his hands. “T’Pol,” he starts, “what went wrong?”

She takes a deep breath. “Everything was under control,” she says. “I think -- I think it was just too much information. And now everything is too loud. I can smell everything, I can see everything, I hear too much.”

“The darkroom,” Archer says, snapping his fingers. “If we can get you into the darkroom, that might help with at least the light.”

Slowly, T’Pol lowers the tray. “Yes,” she says. “That might work.”

“Trip,” Archer says, “clear the hallways. We’ve got someone to transport.”

“Yes, Captain!” Trip practically clicks his heels together, eager to be able to help.

As he leaves, he hears Phlox offer T’Pol a covering he usually uses for his animal cages to help with the sensory input until they can get her to the darkroom. He sighs with relief, knowing things will be at least temporarily under control.


End file.
